Page 95 of The Marriage Deal

; And he knew! He dropped his hands to his side and walked across the room, his stride long and rangy, like a predator in the desert. His hands curved around Jack and right as she was going to tell him to leave Jack where he was, that she needed the hugs, he simply repositioned the boy higher up her body, so she wasn’t in as much pain.

Reality pounded against her – the knowledge that this was a very, very bad sign. There was no way Fiero would be there unless he knew exactly who Jack was to him. How the hell…

“My name was on the paperwork at the hospital.”

She made a tortured gasping sound. Of course. When she’d delivered Jack, she’d put Fiero’s details down, just in case anything happened to her. It was a high-risk pregnancy that had resulted in an emergency C-section; adding an extra parent had seemed wise, given that she was completely alone. No parents she could enlist, no friends in England, and even those back home, in Australia, so far away and long-forgotten. She had been completely alone, until there was Jack, and then she’d found her heart’s breath. She’d lived again with his birth.

She’d completely forgotten she’d given the hospital Fiero’s details in all the overwhelming madness of becoming a single mother.

“I can’t…I…”

But Fiero shook his head. “Don’t.” His eyes though held a silent warning. “Later, we will discuss this.” He looked meaningfully towards Jack. “When you are well, and we are alone.”

She was so tired, her brain thick and uncooperative, so she nodded gingerly. “Fine.”

“How do you feel?” The question was clipped. Asked as a courtesy, she got the strongest impression he didn’t particularly care what the answer was.

So she lifted her shoulders. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” It was a joke, but she felt Jack flinch beside her.

“I’m sorry, mama.”

Her heart broke. “I know, baby.” She dropped a kiss to his head, the effort costing her as she had to bend her torso and her ribs were in no fit shape to do any such thing.

“You have broken your leg, sprained your ankle, broken your arm, cracked four ribs, but the main concern was your head, which was hit hard.” He spoke with clinical detachment but there was something in his voice that had her eyes going to his face. Shock seared her – being here with Fiero Montebello after all this time was surreal and exhausting. She felt…everything.

“I can tell,” she muttered, lifting a hand and wincing at the outward sensitivity. Her hair was matted too; she didn’t even want to contemplate what she must look like.

“There was some swelling in your brain, but it’s gone down. The doctor has been pleased with your progress. You’ve had periods of wakefulness, but not for long.”

“I don’t remember anything,” she frowned.

“Some confusion is to be expected,” he said. “The doctor suspects it will take three or four weeks before you are more or less back to normal. The leg will take longest, but this hospital offers an excellent rehabilitation programme.”

“Which hospital?” She honed in on that. “Where am I?”

“In Italy. Rome.”

The words flashed inside her. “What?”

“I have a villa not far from here. It made sense.”

“How…when?”

“Two days ago.” His eyes dropped to Jack and she felt a welling of concern, and a rush of fear all at once.

“My God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why?”

“The facilities here are world-class. It seemed prudent.”

She swallowed.

“And as I have a son to care for, I didn’t want to be too far from you. For the duration of your recovery.”

Everything about that sounded reasonable but lit greater fires of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. “So he’s been staying with you?”

Fiero nodded, his eyes flashing with something dark and incomprehensible. She turned away, looking down at Jack, the lump in her throat so big it hurt. “Are you okay, baby?”